Dorothy Garlock (14 page)

“Did you come in for the concert?” he asked, thinking that he had to say something when all he wanted to do was look at her.

Annabel laughed. “We did. Poor Papa. He humored me. He’d rather be anywhere but at a concert.”

“Now, darlin’, that’s not true.”

“Are you staying for the concert?” Annabel asked Corbin.

“I thought I would.”

“I doubt that there’s much else going on in Henderson on Sunday afternoon,” Murphy said.

“Do they have a ball team here?” Corbin asked. “I don’t know. Most towns this size have a team. I hear that your young friend fancies himself quite a ball player.”

“I wouldn’t put it like that,” Corbin said bluntly. “He likes the game and is a pretty good player. If he wears out his welcome, let me know and I’ll come get him.”

Murphy rocked back on his heels and studied the tall man leaning on the cane. This was a man somewhere near thirty years of age who had been down the river and around the bend. He knew how to take care of himself.

According to Boone, Appleby had been a lawman in a small town in the northwest corner of the state. Was he a federal marshal now? Had he planted the kid out at the farm to get information before he called in the marshals? If he was a Fed, he would have to work fast, Murphy thought now. If things went the way he planned, this time next week he would be out of the bootlegging business with enough money to buy Annabel a nice modern house in town and open up a legitimate business.

“Boone told me about someone taking a couple of shots at you. Do you have any idea who it was?” Murphy asked after a short pause.

“Never saw a thing.”

“Boone thought maybe someone wanted your car.”

“They could have asked me for it. They didn’t have to shoot me. I’d have died right there if Boone hadn’t been around. I owe him.” Corbin looked directly into Murphy Donovan’s probing dark eyes.

“How long do you plan to stay around?”

“Until my leg and shoulder heal.”

“What kind of work are you in?”

“None at the present. I studied to be a journalist, but the war got in the way of that.”

Corbin leaned on his cane. His eyes were drawn to Annabel. He couldn’t stop looking at her and he didn’t give a damn if Donovan liked it or not.

“What division were you in?”

“Military Police attached to General Bundy’s division.” Corbin’s eyes switched to Donovan and stayed there. The man’s expression never changed.

Good Lord, I hope Annabel’s father isn’t the man I’m looking for. But hell, he fills the bill more than anyone I’ve met so far.

“I understand you’ve just moved to the farm. Do you plan a cattle or a grain operation?”

“There isn’t enough acreage for grain. I’m looking into buying some adjoining land.”

Corbin could tell by the way Annabel looked at her father that this was news to her. She opened her mouth to say something, then closed it and looked toward Mr. Potter, who was coming down the walk carrying a slide trombone.

“Hello, Mr. Potter.”

“Miss Donovan,” he called. “Dare I hope you changed your mind about playing with us?”

“No, sir. I’ve not changed my mind, but thanks for asking me.”

“Don’t run off after the concert. I’d like you to meet some of my musicians.”

Annabel waved to him and watched him waddle down the walk toward the bandstand.

“Papa, let’s go sit down.”

“You go ahead, darlin’. Save me a seat and I’ll be along after I see to a few things.”

“It was nice seeing you again, Mr. Appleby.”

“It was a pleasure seeing you, ma’am.” Corbin tipped his hat and watched her walk away. Murphy lingered.

“You married, Appleby?”

“No. Why do you ask?”

“I saw how you looked at my daughter. I’ve looked at a few women like that myself.” Murphy took a cigar from his pocket, bit off the end and struck a match on the sole of his shoe.

“No law against looking,” Corbin said tightly. “I’m sure a lot of men look at her. She’s a pretty girl.”

“She is that. Pretty, smart and … wholesome. Any man I’d approve of courting her would have to have the means to support her in style.”

“In other words, she’s out of my class. Is that what you’re getting at?”

“Something like that.”

“Don’t worry. I have no plans to come courting. I’ll not be here long enough.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

“I’ll tell you this, Donovan, your approval or disapproval wouldn’t mean spit to me if I decided she was the woman I wanted.”

Murphy nodded. “Now that that’s cleared up, I’ll bid you good day.” With his cigar clenched between his teeth, he strolled up the street toward the business section of town.

Murphy was troubled by thoughts of Corbin Appleby. The man had made no bones about serving with the Military Police. Many of the men who had served in that capacity during the war had been recruited by the Federal Bureau. Was he one of them?

What bothered Murphy the most was Appleby’s obvious interest in Annabel. Would he be devious enough to use her as a pawn to get to him? She was as innocent as a babe where men were concerned. His Annabel might be attracted to a worldly man like Appleby. If he broke her heart, Murphy would kill him. It was as simple as that.

In the world in which Murphy traveled, it was believed that the Feds worked both ends against the middle and would stop at nothing to get what they were after. The same ruthlessness was true of the racketeers who provided the bootleg whiskey to the saloons, bawdy houses and gambling joints. Prohibition had scarcely been born before the gangsters began to capitalize on it. Murphy never considered himself like those men. He had merely seen an opportunity and taken it.

Tipping his hat to the few people he met on their way to the concert in the park, Murphy walked leisurely on as if he had all the time in the world. He went into the post office, lingered in the small room as if looking for his box, then slipped through the rear door. He walked quickly through the building and out the back door. After a hurried scan of the alley, he knocked on a wooden door, which was immediately opened.

Murphy stood inside the room to allow his eyes to adjust to the dim light. The man who had opened the door now closed and locked it with a steel bolt.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come.” He sat down on a sagging old cot.

“I said I’d be here.”

“Well, sit down. I don’t like having to look up at you. And for God’s sake, put out that cigar. It’s smelling up the place.”

“It smells better than dirty feet,” Murphy grumbled, but he dropped it on the floor, ground the toe of his shoe in the end of it, then put it back in his pocket. “I don’t have much time. What have you heard from the top man?”

“We’ve been going over your list of contacts. So far, so good. If we take over your operation here, we want you out of the area … pronto.”

“I plan on it. How about the money?”

“Fifty thousand and that’s it.”

“I know. I agreed on the amount. When and where will I get it? You’ve already inventoried what I’ve got stored in the hills.”

“How do we know you’ve not been shipping it out since then?”

“You don’t. How do I know you’ll come through with the money?”

“Memorize and burn this.” The man dug a paper from his shirt pocket and passed it and a key to Murphy, who gave him a disgusted look.

“I’ve been in this business for seven years. I know the ropes.” He read the paper carefully:
June 1st. United States Bank of Tennessee, Memphis. Use the name TC Brown and ask for Thurmon Rice. Money will be transferred at that time.

Murphy struck a match and held it to the paper and set it aflame. When he could no longer hold it, he dropped it to the floor, watched it burn, then rubbed the sole of his shoe in the ashes.

“I’ll send a couple of men up to the cave to take over.”

“No. Not until the money is in my hand.”

“That’ll be a week. We have orders to fill.”

“Too bad. Not until the money is in my … hand,” Murphy said with emphasis.

The man’s eyes narrowed angrily. “Don’t get too smart, Donovan. You’re just a drip in the puddle to the organization.”

“So are you. Stay away from my supply until I come back with the money.” Murphy pinned the man with his dark eyes before turning to the door.

“Don’t cross us,” the man warned. “My reputation for square dealing is far better than yours.” It was Murphy’s parting shot.

He looked up and down the alley. Finding it clear, he went out and heard the door close softly behind him.

Chapter
10

A
NNABEL HAD BEEN EXCITED at seeing Corbin Appleby again. She had felt his eyes following her when she went down the walk toward the row of benches that faced the bandstand. Her father had been on his guard when meeting him, and she had hesitated about leaving them alone together. No doubt Boone had told him about Corbin’s being a former police chief, which would automatically make her father suspicious of him.

Annabel found an empty bench near the sidewalk and sat down. The musicians were warming up and she watched with interest. So far she hadn’t seen a violin player and suspected Mr. Potter’s band was a marching and not a concert band. She was greatly relieved that she wasn’t playing a solo. She could just sit back and enjoy the music.

The band had just begun playing a rousing march when Annabel’s attention was pulled from the music to movement beside her on the bench. She glanced at the man, frowned, then moved to make more space between them.

Marvin Carter, his hair slicked down and wearing a freshly ironed shirt, folded his arms over his chest, stuck his booted feet out in front of him and crossed his ankles.

“The skinny one on the big horn is puffin’ so hard he’s ’bout to blow his brains out,” he said, as if they had been carrying on a conversation. Marvin puffed out his cheeks and said in a loud voice, “Boom, boom, boom.”

Mortified, Annabel reined in her anger and refused to acknowledge him.

“Ya sure do look purty today, sugartit.” He leaned so close, his breath brushed her cheek. “You smell good too.”

Annabel moved until she was at the end of the bench and glanced around to see if the people sitting nearby were noticing the loathsome lout who was bothering her.

“Settle down, honey. Yo’re as flighty as a whore in church. I ain’t goin’ to hurt ya. I just want to be with ya. Ya been givin’ me a
hard
time—if ya know what I mean.”

Her head swiveled around. “You’re disgusting,” she snapped. “Get away from me.”

“Ya ain’t wantin’ me to do that. I’m gonna be yore new beau.”

“That’s a laugh. You don’t stand a chance.”

His grin was wide and confident. “Who says?”

“I say. Now leave me alone.”

“All yo’re doin’ is playin’ hard to get. I ain’t blamin’ ya for it. When I get ya off by yoreself and give ya my special lovin’, ya’ll be pantin’ after me like a mare in heat.”

“I don’t like you, Mr. Carter. Please leave me alone.”

“That ain’t what Tessie said. She said ya liked me fine.”

“I don’t believe that. You were not even discussed.”

He chuckled. “I’m takin’ ya to the picture show Saturday night. Ya’ll like me after that. I know how to pleasure a woman.”

When he moved an inch closer and lifted his arm to the back of the bench behind her, Annabel jumped to her feet. By the time she had reached the sidewalk he was beside her, her elbow clasped in a tight grip. She walked as fast as she could. He kept pace with her, holding her close to him.

“Slow down, honey. Ya don’t want folks to think we’re havin’ a lover’s spat, do you?”

“Get away from me, you … you … stupid lout.” She tried to jerk her arm from his grasp.

“Just walk along nice-like. Folks are lookin’.”

“Let them look. Turn loose my arm or I’ll scream loud enough to wake the dead.”

“I like a woman with spunk. We’ll hitch good together.”

“I’d rather be hitched to a rattlesnake,” Annabel countered.

Suddenly Corbin Appleby appeared on the walk in front of them. His cane was in his hand.

“I’m sorry I was late, sweetheart,” he said casually and held his hand out to Annabel, who took it. He tugged gently in an attempt to pull her to his side.

Marvin refused to release her arm. Instead he tried to steer Annabel around him. Corbin stayed in front of them.

“Butt off, she’s with me,” Marvin snarled.

“I’m not!”

“The lady says she’s not with you. Get your hands off her.”

“Get the hell outta the way. She’s my girl!”

“I’m not,” Annabel cried again.

“Let her go or you’ll get this cane upside your head.”

“Yo’re a cripple! Ya fixin’ to take me on?” Marvin sneered.

“If I have to.”

Corbin’s eyes flicked to Annabel. He saw her wince.
The bastard was hurting her.
An almost unreasonable rage came over him. In a lightning-fast move, he reversed the cane and struck Marvin on the kneecap. The blow was so sharp, so hard and so unexpected that Marvin’s leg went out from under him. He fell to the ground. Only Corbin’s hand prevented Annabel from going down with him.

“Ohhh …” Marvin howled. “Ya son-of-a-bitch!” He rolled on the ground holding his knee, then struggled to his feet. He was so angry that his eyes were unfocused. His lips lifted from his teeth in a snarl and he drew back a clenched fist.

“I don’t advise you to fight me.” Corbin released Annabel’s hand, extended an arm and pushed her behind him. “I was with the Military Police during the war, and I know ways of taking you down before you have time to spit. And I can hurt you real bad in a place you … treasure.”

“Ya shit-eatin’ bastard! I’ll kill ya for this.”

“Watch your mouth or you’ll lose some teeth … now!” Corbin said quickly. Then, “Get away from here or I
will
break your leg.”

Marvin glanced around to see that several people had stopped to gawk at them.

“What’re ya lookin’ at?” he snarled. He took a few limping steps toward the street and turned with a look of pure hatred on his face. “I ain’t forgettin’ this,” he said to Corbin. “I got first claim on her and I’ll have her.”

“Not unless she wants you.”